Whoop whoop! I updated again (finally)! Yeeeeaaaah!
Oh man, my fanfiction account is so out of the loop. I'm going to have to upload a crapton of stories now. Or, for anyone who would like to stay more so in the loop (though I'll warn you, Silence updates at close to the same time on every website) I also have an AO3 account where I tend to put up more one-shots and pesterlogs. Mostly because Fanfiction doesn't like script formatting.
An-y-way, this chapter is super weird and might seem rather nonsensical because I stayed up late and got up at a decent time this morning to finish it. So. There's that.
Oh well. Merry Christmas everyone!
"Hello, this is Sandra Banks from Sburb High School. What can I do for you?" The familiar voice of the school's secretary chirped.
John cleared his throat, eyes trained on the window, unsure of where else to look. "Uh, hi. This is John Egbert calling in. I won't be able to attend class for the rest of the week."
"Oh no!" Mrs. Banks cried, shrill voice rising to a pitch that made him cringe. "You poor thing! What's wrong? Should I call for an ambulance?"
"No, it's fine. I'm, uh, actually already in the hospital—" she gasped, but John trucked on, unwilling to hear whatever worries she wanted to voice. "—and I wanted to inform the school that I won't be up there for a while."
"Oh dear! I'm going to need a doctor's note by the time you get back, I'm afraid, but I'll make sure to email your teachers. Would you like someone to deliver your homework?"
"Yes, please. Just give it to Dave Strider; he doesn't have any after school activities and he knows what room I'm in."
"Gotcha. Get well soon!"
Ugh. Cheerful secretaries. "Er, right. I'll go do that now. Bye."
He hung up before Mrs. Banks could say anything else, dropping his phone into his lap with a sigh. The sky outside the hospital window was clear and blue, though the view was slightly obstructed by an ugly brick-and-stone building out front, and the parking lot was sprawled out, mostly-empty and gray, below.
A nurse had come in earlier, checked his bandages and IV, and then per his request, helped him sit up in the bed, his back propped up against a giant cloud of lumpy hospital pillows. Jade and Rose had left with the nurse, Rose to get food and Jade to do . . . Something. Probably use the little girl's room.
Dave, on the other hand, had taken off an hour ago with a phone call to his brother, rushing to meet at John's house. They had promised not to kill the troll inside, but what exactly they were planning to do, John didn't know.
He fiddled with his phone, thumb lazily bumping into the buttons on his cheap keypad. The Striders had yet to call or otherwise message him for an update, though he didn't really expect one until they were done doing whatever they were doing at any rate. Still, sitting there, alone in his room, he couldn't help but think it might be kind of nice to have an idea on what was going on. Could the Strider brothers really take on a troll by themselves? Surely it shouldn't take an hour; what was going on down there anyway?
Waiting around for someone to come back or call was agonizing, not to mention boring, so it didn't take very long at all for John to start playing music off of his phone and singing to it in a treacherous, off-key pitch that would have shattered the eardrums of anyone unfortunate enough to walk in on him during that long, painfully lonely twenty minutes.
However, Jade and Rose eventually came back, chattering away and with Chinese takeout, right before John received a phone call.
Two days later, the hospital decided it was safe to release John back out into the wild plains of the city, and the Strider brothers drove by to pick him up themselves. According to the Lalondes, John's vehicle had already been returned to his driveway, and his friends had all agreed (without talking to him) that it would be for the best if he didn't drive himself home or return to his pet troll for the first time alone.
Rose and Jade had been perfectly willing to act as chaperons, but the Striders had patiently argued that they had been the ones to "tame" John's troll, and therefore had earned the rights to formally introduce the two.
John was, of course, nervous as crap. He still wasn't entirely certain what Dirk and Dave had done to calm the troll down, and all Dave would tell him was that they "handled it".
Logically, they would have had to show dominance and forced the crazy little guy to submit, and likely with force, but he still didn't know the specifics, the story, the whole how. As someone who completely failed to show any sort of dominance, he was dying to know how they had managed his troll. Seriously. He wanted to know. Like, now.
Unfortunately for him, Dirk ignored him completely and Dave refused to say anything but, "We handled it."
He was a terrible friend. John had no idea why he kept the jerk around.
The Egbert residence was dark when they pulled into the driveway, despite the sun shining high in the sky above them. Black windows stared unblinkingly down at them, the silence heavy enough to drown in. It reminded him of the last time he was here, when the troll had attacked him. Somehow, that feeling of déjà vu didn't make him feel any better.
"You ready?" Dirk asked him as the three boys slid out of the car.
John, trying not to seem like a huge sissy, shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be."
What? It was better than a "no".
Dave, because he was a good jerk-friend, clapped him reassuringly on the back and used that hand to then steer them towards the front door, where Dirk pulled the spare key out from under the rug and made quick work of unlocking it. John frowned, feeling a bit like his privacy was being compromised, but then remembered that the Striders had taken care of his little troll problem and decided to forgive them.
The front door swung open into an ominous, silent home, yawning open before them like one of those not-as-shitty-as-they-would-like-to-admit haunted houses everyone liked to go visit when they were younger.
"Ladies first," Dirk, the asshole, announced, bowing mockingly.
Dave held his head up high, fingers cinching around John's shoulder just as he started to stumble backwards, sputtering. "I taught you well, Dirk."
Dirk probably rolled his eyes, but his shades hid any movement or emotion, so John wasn't entirely sure.
Not that he would have gotten a good look anyway, as Dave then decided to shove him inside without any warning, earning a startled yelp.
Oh yeah. John was totally returning Dave to the Best Friend Factory the very first chance he got.
The Striders stepped in after him, flicking the lights on and closing the door softly behind them. John strained his ears, eyes darting around warily, but he didn't see or hear—oh, nope. There it was. It sounded like the troll was rushing down the stairs as fast as it could.
Sure enough, a familiar troll paused on the last stair, lips curled back to show the sharp fangs lining its mouth, glowing eyes narrowed and unhappy. John may or may not have cowered slightly, his torso burning in memory of those flexing claws piercing his flesh, but Dirk grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay where he was, standing between the Striders and the troll.
Could John return both Striders, actually? Because that would be awesome. He would even suffer through Jake's wrath.
The troll tensed on the stairwell, shifting its weight from foot to foot, aggravated and restless.
"No," Dirk said, completely out of the blue. His grip tightened on John's shoulder, drawing the troll's eyes. John fought the urge to react. "No." Strider put his other hand on John's other shoulder, getting right behind him because that wasn't weird at all. "Friend. Owner. John."
The troll shifted again, but it didn't growl or move or make an otherwise threatening gesture.
Wow, if John had known he just had to spit random words at the guy, he would have had such an easier time these past few days.
It started to move forward, uncertain, slow, its shoulders hunched and its body crouched low to the ground. John eyed it warily, noting, with a wrinkled nose and the vague thought that he'd have to take care of it later, that the troll was wearing the same pants it had when first delivered. Ew. The troll paused at the halfway point between the stairs and the gathered humans, glowering and baring its teeth, and for a minute he thought it was looking at John—but no, its fiery eyes were focused on the guys behind him, looking between Dirk and Dave with the sort of fury that likely caused the Striders' battered appearances when they had returned to the hospital.
Dave started to move, but Dirk held out his arm and whispered a low, "Wait."
Gray limbs flexed, inching forward across the carpet, and John felt the hands at his shoulders fall away.
Startled, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to find the Striders backing away. "What are you—?"
Dirk put a finger up to his lips and gestured back to the troll, so with a gulp, John turned back to find the troll standing straight and tall in front of him, leaning into his personal space despite the fact that its eyes were trained on the brothers a few feet behind him. John's voice seemed to draw its attention, however, because its eyes were quick to snap to his face, narrowed and burning as intensely as any fire.
A clawed hand came up—and wow look at those knives—but they didn't cut or hurt John, even when he flinched back. The sharp thumb nail pressed in, brushing lightly over his shoulder, and then something leathery and smooth was coasting the inside of his shirt, which yeah, that was actually its thumb, apparently. It paused when it came to the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and all the warning John had was a frown before his shirt and bandage were suddenly torn and Dave was cursing somewhere far behind him.
"John, you okay there?" Dirk called.
"Uh . . . yes?" He answered dubiously; staring at the troll that was now fixated on the exposed wounds, claw tips running lightly over the red, damaged skin. "I'm really confused, though."
"Did we give him too many drugs?" Dave wondered aloud. John fought the urge to turn around and smack him.
Dirk seemed to think the best plan was simply to ignore his brother. John was inclined to agree. "I can't see from back here. What exactly is he doing to you?"
"He just kind of ripped my shirt and bandages," he frowned, "And is now touching my injuries."
"Is he hurting you?"
"No, I can barely feel it, but I am a little weirded out. Is this normal behavior for trolls?"
There was a pause. "I'm not sure."
The troll seemed perfectly continue to ignore not just Dave, but all of the chattering humans, its strange eyes focused on the scars in front of it. John, himself, was paying more attention to the Striders than to the pet (though not by very much), and he may or may not have squealed and cringed back when the troll bent closer and started licking his wounds.
"Woah! Woah!" John breathed, stumbling backwards. The troll glared at him, reached forward, and yanked him back by his belt loops, resuming the licking. "Ew, okay, no. That is gross. This is really gross. Someone, come help me!"
"Aw, but Egderp, it would be cruel for us to get between an apologizing pet and his master," Dave cooed.
"Dave, I am three seconds away from beating you, so help me—"
"I think John will be okay for now," Dirk cut in, sounding all calm and official.
"What?! Hey, you guys aren't about to—" Holy crap, they were actually leaving! "You can't just leave me here! Guys, I'm still injured!"
"And I'm sure your new boyfriend will happily take care of you." Dave replied cheekily, pausing at the door to turn and give him a wave. "Just look at that happy couple. I'll leave you guys to it; see you at school, Egbert."
"Dave! Dirk! Come back here!" John turned to the troll, flushing and embarrassed and ugh, "And would you stop licking me? Because that would be great. Anytime you want to stop, really, that would be awesome."
The troll didn't stop licking him.